Sweet Charlotte Ann
by pen.maiden.myself
Summary: Excerpts from the diary of Charlotte Thornton. Series inspired by Nancy Drew: Ghost of Thornton Hall. From 1984 - 1988.
1. October 25, 1989

_October 25, 1989_

_Sweet Charlotte Ann. That's what they all call me. Well, soon that sentence may have to be conveyed in the past tense. I wonder if they'd all think I'm so sweet if they knew what I've been doing. What I've been forced to do. Clues, riddles, crypts, and clocks - my mind grows heavy when I think about all of the traps and clues I've laid out in the past two months. She's onto me. I know she is. Clara's been giving me the oddest stares as of late, stares that boil my blood and send shivers down my back. I wonder if she's seen some of the things I've put together. Does she know about the gift I gave to Harper? Oh, dear little Harper. How terribly she'd miss me if something were to happen. I haven't been spending time with her like I should. I know that I should be talking to her, giving her some warnings about what could happen. But I can't bring myself to it; not if Clara suspects what I've been up to. I know that we Thorntons are a paranoid bunch. But am I taking the paranoia too far? I feel terrible, using the resting places of my family as a path of clues for Harper. Maybe they won't mind. After all, we're Thortons - the lot of us stick together... except for the Night of the Fifty-Four Souls. There's a mean little voice in my head, screaming, "If that's true, then what is Clara up to?" She's got a right to be mad, that's true - everyone's entitled to an opinion - but what I give to Harper is my choice. It's my choice alone._

_At least I have something to look forward to. My twenty-first birthday is in five days. The dress is done, and now I'm working on the finishing touches for the lace mask. It's absolutely gorgeous, in my opinion. Wade thinks so too. He just barged on me the other day, while I was trying it on for size. Thankfully the dress was on - but I smacked that little smirky chicken hawk on the head with a book. That got rid of him real quick. But something troubled me about the whole thing. I couldn't believe that I had forgotten to lock my door. Even though it was kind of funny, it set my heart to beating. If Wade could get in without me noticing, who else could?_

_I can't keep thinking about these things._


	2. December 20, 1984

Author's Note: What I plan to do for this series, after giving you all a brief taste of Charlotte's diary slightly before the murder last chapter, is to build up her character a few years before the murder and take it from there.

* * *

_December 20, 1984_

_Harper was in here crying again. I can't stand seeing my baby sister in pain. I've never had someone close to me who's lost parents before, so I can only reckon that Harper's reaction is normal. It's been a few months now, but Christmas is a hard time to celebrate when folks are mourning. It's not fair to any of us, but our family is doing a good job of keeping company for the time being. Wade and Clara, and the rest of the Thorntons are over at the house. It's nice having us all together again; both the living and the dead._

_Harper won't stop reading the part of the book about our parents. Dodge and Karenina, the unfortunate lovers who stuck together until the end. I know that understanding where you come from can help you understand who you are... but I think Harper just needs to learn to let her pain go, and come to peace with the ghosts that are coming alive in her mind. She's barely left my side these past few months. I love having my little sister around, but I don't know that this is healthy. She's such a sweet little thing... I'm sure she'll get over this hump soon enough._

_Wade and Clara are even getting along for Harper and my sakes. I always knew that they'd be able to put aside their differences. I only hoped that they'd figure it out under different circumstances. Or maybe no circumstances at all. They're both good people, better than they know. But I could ramble on about my cousins for a whole stack full of diaries like these. I'll leave that for some other time._

_Oh, Marie's knocking on the door. Best friends sure come with a cost. Like noisiness. I suppose I'm off to the front porch swing to drink some hot cocoa. Why on Earth would anyone go outside on a cold winter day to drink hot cocoa?! Anything to cheer up Harper, I guess._


	3. December 25, 1984

_December 25, 1984_

_Christmas was great, right up until Harper set the turkey on fire. Yes, my little sister actually succeeded in setting our Christmas turkey to ashes. Grandpa Jackson laughed. He said that those were Thornton genes, through and through. I'm glad no one was bull-headed enough to make a big deal out of it. Even Aunt Virginia and Uncle Luther laughed with us. I think Harper had an accident with some of the cooking oil and Grandpa Jackson's whiskey. That mixed with a hot turkey in an oven was not a good combination. But they all got Harper laughing. I'm glad she enjoyed herself. For once since the accident, Harper's been able to clear her head and lose herself in some fun. I know she's been needing that._

_We all gave each person in the family a little gift this year, as Thornton tradition requires (heck, I just think Clara was itchin' to get into town some way, and taking everyone shopping just happened to be an option). I got a beautiful pair of black pearl earrings from Aunt Virginia, a new diary from Uncle Luther (guess where I'll be writing after this book's filled), a box of chocolates from Wade (he can be sweet when he wants to be... though he knows that chocolate wins me over fast... now I wonder what he wants from me), a magazine on graduation dresses from Clara (she's a mind-reader), a really heart-wrenching poem about Mom and Dad from Harper (she's always been better with words than me), a gift card for the shoe store from Marie (is she hinting about a graduation shopping trip?), and a hundred-dollar bill from Grandpa Jackson. It's not like I need the money - I'm the heir to my parents' estate, after all - but it's the thought that counts. I'm so grateful for my beautiful, wonderful family and best friend. And guess who else showed up for dinner tonight?_

_Yes Future Charlotte, you guessed it. Mart Mackesy. I've been trying to get my best friend to meet the family for a while now. He knew Mom and Dad, of course, but after the accident... well, I suppose he didn't want to impose. Not like Mart could ever be an imposing figure. He's been a huge help in this whole mess I call my life._

_There's something else that I feel like I should be writing about, or at least thinking about... I think it's something Mom told me the week before they left for that plane. Something about the Civil War. I reckon I'll remember it later. _


	4. January 2, 1985

_January 2, 1985_

_I'm excited. Harper's been pestering me, trying to figure out what it is that's got me up in such a boot-stomping ruckus - but I can't tell her. Not yet. This discovery is just too good to be true. I think Mom and Dad left me something in the secret rooms. Yes, Thornton Hall has secret rooms, along with a few trap doors and oddly-placed bags of cotton. You name it, we've got it. Well, except for a make-it-yourself cheeseburger stand. You'd think that with all the money we Thorntons have, we'd have built a cheeseburger-making stand somewhere in this old house. Maybe even a grits dispenser. But no, of course we haven't. Never mind my rantings, I'm hungry. And I'm gettin' off track._

_Not many of the Thorntons know about the trap doors, and my parents intended to keep it that way. I don't know why they did it. When I was a kid, I used to beg my dad to let me take Wade into the basement, have Harper hide in a trap door, and then get her to jump out and scary him silly. I knew it'd wipe that smug little grin off his face. Not to be mean, of course. Wade always did love a good scare. But Dad always shook his head and said, "No." That's all he ever said, of course. I loved my dad to bits - still do, in fact - but his tongue-tied problem often left me confused and wanting a better answer. Guess that's why Mom and I were always closer. She had the magic to tell me what Dad never could. So, naturally, it was Mom who told me 'bout the whole deal with the secret rooms 'n passageways._

_"Charlotte, those passageways are secret for a reason." Mom's sweet and kind voice would always kinda hush down whenever she talked about something serious, but when it came to the secret passageways, she became even quieter than usual. "They aren't to be meddled with." Her eyebrows would knit together, and then she'd stop. I was just a twelve-year-old kid when I first found the secret passageways. I didn't know enough to stop asking questions. I was too curious. I'd ask her why we couldn't play in the passageways. "You know that we Thorntons haven't always had a clean past, right Charlotte?" I'd nod my head. Mom used to tell me about the Thornton family's history. She was right, not all of it was pretty. Especially the Night of the Fifty-Four Souls. "Well, hanging around in those passageways can do things to the mind. I can't right explain it, sweetie... but it's not a good idea to be playing down there. Only go into the secret passageways if it's a dire emergency." And then she'd stop. She wouldn't say anything else, and if I asked, she'd suddenly become cheery again and start talking about my friends or what we were making for dinner that night._

_I never understood what my mother meant by that. That the secret passageways did things to people's minds. I've never heard of a crazy Thornton. Maybe I'm being too nice (I do that a lot), but my living family is just too kind for that kind of stuff. Sure, we've all got our ghosts and secrets, but we're the Thorntons. It'd be weird if we suddenly became normal. I doubt it's possible for this family to be normal. After all, Harper and I are the ones with a graveyard for a backyard. But that's the way we like it._

_Agh, I'm getting off-track again! I promise to finish my story this time. Dang it, if I don't learn to stop rambling, I'll never have enough pages in this diary to last me a month._

_I found a necklace in the earthen hallways of one of the trap doors. It's one of the ones in the basement, the one that leads down underneath the front porch. This is what was bugging me the other day! Mom used to tell me stories about one of our ancestors, a woman - I can't remember her name for the life of me - who was a spy in the Civil War. Well, this necklace I found, I'm sure it was hers. It's gorgeous. Old, black, with an intricate middle section riddled with buttons. I accidently pushed one of the buttons when I first found the necklace. I don't know how it works yet, but I plan to research the Civil War to find out more about this. Until then, I'm keeping the necklace in my room, locked away in my writing desk drawer._

_I know what Mom said about the trap doors, but it was her who used to tell me stories about the Civil War. Who else could have left the necklace in that little hallway? Besides, I'm the heir to the Thornton estate. I love my mom, and I trust what she said. But I'm seventeen years old, nearly an adult. It's time for me to figure out some things about this family. I'm sure I'll be okay._


	5. January 6, 1985

_January 6, 1985_

_I haven't written in a few days because school's been giving me one heck of a headache. Marie, Mart, and I are doing what we can to stay ahead of our course deadlines. We're even planning to finish early, and have some time before graduation to take a bit of a break. I'm not sure what break'll end up being, but knowing the three of us, we'll think of something radical and exciting. Because of this, I haven't spent much time in the old passageways. Instead, I've been using my study time in the crypt. People think I'm crazy, but I like hanging around in there. It's quiet, and calm, and besides, I like talking to the family. I know they can hear me. It's comforting to have someone to talk to who doesn't give you their opinion._

_After my homework last night, at 1 AM in the morning, I figured something out about that Civil War necklace. Yes, it's from the Civil War. A Thornton woman, she was a spy for the South in the war. The necklace was one of the ways she was able to send messages to her co-workers. (Co-consorters? What would you even call 'em?) Since Thornton Hall was given to her as payment for her duties, that would explain why there are so many passages and expansive areas in the house. I think there are more trap doors. I want to find the original blueprints (not that they'd mark where the passages are). Well, as old as I can find. There might be some clues on those. I know, now I'm gettin' all riled up about clues when I should be studying for this English exam. Ms. Hatwell teaches English at the high school. She's such a sweet lady - even gave me an extra credit for a research assignment I did back in Grade 10. She's always real helpful when it comes to grammar and all that, too. But back to my 'mission', which will probably end up being a historical research assignment for Social Studies if I can figure it all out in time, I plan to do some more investigating once the workload slows down a touch. There's something strange and beautiful about this house, and I intend to find out what it is._

_On a more Harperly note, my sister seems to be getting better. She got a journal from Uncle Luther as well, and she's been using it. Venting in it. Discussing her thoughts in it. No, I haven't been reading her diary - she's told me. We had a long talk yesterday during one of my study breaks. My curly-haired little sister is getting better, and I can't think of anything that would make me smile more than that._


	6. January 8, 1985

_January 8, 1985  
_

_I haven't had a chance to explore yet, but I'm done my homework for the night. It was Harper's turn to make dinner, and she's already cleaned up the dishes and put them away. She's continually getting better, and getting some work done is making her feel a little more useful. I'd gladly do the work myself, but if it's helping Harper, who am I to get in the way? Besides, I just thought of something I could do. It's time for that explanation of my cousins I promised._

_Clara Thornton is a seventeen-year-old grad student, just like me. Her mother was my aunt, my own mom's sister. Nobody knows who Clara's father is. It really bugs her sometimes, and I guess that's part of the reason we get along so well. Clara and I aren't super close, but we're both parentless. My parents died in a plane crash, her dad's untraceable, and her mom died just a few years ago of brain cancer. I guess we're not that different after all. Clara and I go to the same school, just a little high school here on the island. She wants to go into business. I'm happy for her, I really am; it's just that Clara's one true weakness is her overly competitive spirit. I guess it makes sense. When your dad ain't there and your mom's sickly, of course you're always fighting for attention. Clara's an only child, so she's kinda used to acting all mature and responsible. That's why she can't stand our other cousin, Wade._

_Now, Wade Thornton's just a kid. He's a twelve-year-old seventh grader who doesn't even go to the same school as we do. Aunt Virginia and Uncle Luther are his parents. Wade really is a sweet kid, and I love him to bits. He's just a prankster, a stereotypical little brother who plays jokes and barges in at the worst moments possible. It's a wonder he hasn't gotten into my diary yet, the little rascal. Strangely enough, little Wade's as good as mature enough as a kid three years older than him. He's an only child, like Clara, and he studies history with his dad. Uncle Luther's a university graduate, a man with knowledge nearly spilling out of his brains. Wade is the container that knowledge spills into, I reckon._

_But, yes, the five-year age gap between Clara and Wade often causes tension around here. Thankfully, Wade doesn't have to spend all of his time with Clara and I. He and Harper are only two years apart, which makes it easier for them to relate to each other. No, it makes it a **lot** __easier for them to relate to each other. They're both mischievous at heart. They're always exploring something new, having tree-climbing competitions... well, that's what they used to do. Before the accident changed everything._

_I wonder if they've found the secret passageways._


	7. January 13, 1985

_January 13, 1985_

_I cannot believe it. Clara and I had a huge fight at school, and over something that we swore would never come between the two of us. I can't believe it actually happened. I'm angry - I never get angry - and so, so guilty over what happened. But how do you apologize for fighting over Mart Mackesy? I know, it's stupid. It's the worst thing that's ever happened between me and Clara. To put it simply, she's in love with him. I ain't got any intentions of becoming sweethearts with the guy; he's my best friend. But of course, Miss Clara seems to have a different idea about my motives. We got into a fight about it in the bathrooms. She accused me of trying to keep him away. I said she was being ridiculous. It grew from there, and I said things I regretted even then._

_I don't know what I'm supposed to do. At this point, I don't even want to talk to either of them. I'm in the crypt right now, crying and trying to figure out what could have happened. What could have come between us. On top of all this pointless drama, Great Aunt Polly is coming over at eight o' clock tonight to stay with Harper and I for a few weeks. Apparently there are legalities to go through concerning our parents' death and the Thornton estate. And guess who has to be present for all of the talks with lawyers because she's turning eighteen later this year?_

_Ugh. Of course it's me._

_I want to inherit the estate, to take care of Thornton Hall. Mom and Dad would have been so proud of me. But today, of all days? Does the madness have to start today?_

_I need time to cool down, to think this through. Paper-raging isn't going to help me._

_Maybe talking with the spirits will._


	8. January 20, 1985

_January 20, 1985_

_Two men were involved in the three-day-long talks. One was my parents' lawyer, Greg Crashaw. The other was a young businessman - a guy who couldn't have been much more than ten years older than me - Louis Chandler. Greg said that Louis was rising in the world of antiques, and that he'd be able to help me price out the estate. According to Greg, Thornton Hall hadn't been properly inventoried since the mid-60's. Crazy, right? The paperwork was a terrible pain in the neck. I kept moaning and groaning about it to Harper during the breaks. Of course, my newly-happy sister would just smirk at me and say that it was the cost of fortune, and that she was glad I was the one who had to make all of the tough decisions. What a little imp. (You're not really an imp, Harper, you just act like one. A lot of the time.)_

_We got through the meetings alive, thank goodness. The paperwork was signed, allowing me to take the estate as my own when I turned twenty-one. (Until then, the estate would still technically be mine, but I would need a Thornton family adult to sign certain papers and documents for me until I legally came of age.) Basically, this meant that I would have the final say in anything that happened to the property. It would be mine, mine alone, and I would be able to do whatever I wanted with it. The idea was terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. I vowed to my parents then and there to use my family's riches wisely._

_Greg Crashaw left a few days ago. Apparently he had a long string of business meetings in Milwaukee that he had to get to. No matter, what my lawyer did with his time was not my concern. Besides, it was nice to get him out of my hair. Louis stayed a little longer. He left last night after a few days of going through all the valuables in my house. He was amazed by some of the old things we have. "Charlotte, do you realize that this is a *insert some weird Latin name here* antique?" "No Louis, I had no idea. That's why you're here, of course." He had a ball looking through all of our old, taken for granted possessions. But we got the inventory all done and good, so that won't have to be done for another few years. Bless their hearts, but I find all of those legal types just a bit over my head. I like being logical sometimes, sure, but I also like speaking in plain English that most people understand._

_I haven't talked to Clara yet. I did tell Marie about the situation, though, and that helped me sort out my thoughts. Maybe tomorrow after school will be a good time to figure things out._


	9. February 1, 1985

_February 1, 1985_

_I have so much to write about, but I ain't got any ideas where to start. Where did I leave off? Right. Clara. __My cousin and I both carry strong genes of Thornton thick-headedness - though I'm sure we could become more reasonable with each other if we only gave it a try. We talked about this whole kafuffle. Clara now knows that I am about as interested in any boy than I am in moving to India. That settled things for her. Apparently, she had been worried because she's jealous of me in other areas. What?! I've never given Clara a reason to be jealous before, never! She's my cousin, one of my best friends, and while she may be a light-headed girl some of the time, I really do love her. But apparently, it's the odd mixture of where I stand in the family line and the fact that I had a father that really rubs her the wrong way._

_Truth be told, I can understand that struggle. It must be similar to the way that I envy other teens for having a family that's still alive. Clara's jealousy must be stronger, though. She never even knew what it was like to call someone a dad and mean it well._

_But the fact that she's jealous of my inheritance... well, sorry now Clara, but that's just silly. Does she think I'm gonna hog it all to myself? Of course not. It's the Thornton family's estate, and the Thornton family will have full rights to it. I'm sure this is just part of her insecurities about not having a true family, poor thing. This whole situation was nasty, but maybe it'll help us understand each other a little bit more. Either way, it really does not make me feel worthy of my "Sweet Charlotte Ann" title. Good grief, I am such a terrible person sometimes._

_Louis Chandler sent me a letter a few days ago. A real confidential one. When I read it, I could hardly believe my eyes. My whole life, I had been told that the Thornton family were millionaires. But according to the new inventory, we were not. Our money had grown to the billions._

_Am I so sure that I'll be able to use this money wisely? I can't even get into a high school friendship without turning things nasty. Mom and Dad must have known what they were doing when they named me heir... that's the only reason I'm not bailing out yet. That and the rest of the family. I've been spending time in the graveyards, and every time I do, a silent feeling of peace circulates through the air. Sometimes it makes me ticked with the spirits. It's like they're telling me that everything will be all right, that I'll be the perfect heiress, no matter what I believe now._

_And maybe they're right._

* * *

**_Author's Note: I haven't updated this story in quite a few weeks because I've been in Europe visiting family. Have no fear, this story will be updated at a more regular pace now that I am back. I hope you're all enjoying this. Remember: feel free to leave a review with your opinions, questions, and constructive criticism. I appreciate it all very much. Thank you!_**


	10. February 10, 1985

_February 10, 1985_

_School is still being a pain in the butt. I do not approve, and will not speak further on the subject._

_As for the secret passageways, they're turning out to be helpful. So far, I've discovered one that leads to a spot underneath the porch, one that leads to a closet down the hall from my room, and one that leads to the top floor library. It's exciting, especially 'cause I'm the only one who knows about their whereabouts. I've been able to spy on conversations... not that that's been very interesting. But what if someone like Louis Chandler came back, except they were a crazy person who wanted to steal our fortune? Just think of how much fun it would be to act as a detective roaming these passageways. Not like I'll ever become a detective, but hey, a girl can dream._

_Okay, I lied. I have to bring school up again, only to give myself another two seconds before running off to do homework. Ugh, I'll be glad when June rolls around. Or next Friday. The girls and I are going window-shopping for grad dresses. We dragged Harper into the mess, too, just 'cause we all know how much she rolls her eyes at things that fall into the category of "girly-girl." She invented the category. Who's the girly-girl now, sis?_

_I've gotta dash._


	11. February 14, 1985

_February 14, 1985_

_Well. Valentine's Day was weird._

_It appears that Harper has a secret admirer. You know, I've never been one to condone the whole "secret admirer" thing... it's more creepy and kinda stalker-style than just coming out and telling a girl you love her. But no, of course nobody listens to me. And of course, I don't force my opinions onto anyone. I learned the news after coming home from school and tidying up the accounting files. Yeah, I've started to learn how to keep the family books in order. My aunt says that it's a skill any Thornton should have, and I suppose I'm the next Thornton who should have to learn it. But anyways, I'm rambling._

_Back to the topic of love!_

_When she told me the news, Harper was grinning so big her face looked like it was going to break. Apparently some kid had left a sweet little note in her locker. Her locked locker. I figured that clue would probably help to narrow down the suspects, but no - when I asked about it, Harper just blushed and muttered something about having homework to do. Liar._

_Of course, I'm going to have to investigate the matter further. I feel like such a spy kid - like the type you'd read about in those paperback books for five bucks at the grocery store - what with my hidden passageways, inheritance ordeals, and now this fresh new mystery. Speaking of my mysteries, I took out that old Civil War necklace and fiddled around with it today. I'm not sure what it's all about, but I think I'm getting closer to solving the mystery. It seems that I have to press the buttons on the necklace in a certain way. I haven't dared press any of them yet. Something important may be in that necklace, and I intend to find out what it is._

_Oh look, Wade's roaming around the graveyard again. I should probably invite him in. Maybe he'll be able to pull the truth out of Harper._

_Adios, diary._


	12. February 22, 1985

_February 22, 1985_

_Window-shopping was amazing. If I didn't have to keep my outfit to a $300 budget, I would have bought the most elegant blue silk dress today. It was lined with black lace on its skirt layers, and the neckline curved beautifully. Marie and Clara both fawned over designs that were far out of their price ranges as well - but isn't that what a girl's afternoon out of window-shopping is all about? Not to my surprise, Harper complained for almost the entire time. It was funny, though, dragging that kid along as we walked around the mall and a couple of boutique shops in the next town over. It was nice to spend an afternoon acting like a real-life teenaged girl, instead of some weighted-down heiress who's practically a half-mother to her little sister. Sometimes, if I'm being completely honest with myself, I just break down and beg... I don't know, God, the spirits... to bring them back. To twist around time and make our lives how they always used to be: happy. Free of sympathetic stares and extra pressures caused by orphanhood. It's a terrible way to think, I know, but some days I really can't help it._

_Anyways, at least I have a few ideas for my grad dress. I imagine that Mart will want to hear about our adventures on Monday. His family's away on a road trip for a few days, so I won't be seeing him until the next school week. He'll probably want to tease us girls for spending a good working afternoon wasting energy and mooning over impractical dresses. So typical of Mart._

_Oh, Harper's yelling at me to come and have dinner. Speaking of Harper, I've narrowed the love interest suspects down to three... more on that later._


	13. March 1, 1985

_March 1, 1985_

_I'm getting straight B's in school. For all that the energy I've wasted worrying about tests and assignments, I'm not actually doing too badly. Slightly amazing._

_Onto more interesting topics. I have two of them today, if you can believe it. Let's go with the relevant-to-daily-life discovery. I found out who Harper's little love bug is. (Yes, I've given him such a cool title. Perhaps I should shorten it to LLB? Yeah, sure. The LLB it is.) Anyways, I had three ideas at first. There were two grade eight boys from Harper's class, and one ninth-grader who's started to tag around with Harper's posse. Yes, I refer to her small group of friends as a posse. They're crazy children, I tell you. Oh well, at least she's started to rekindle some friendships. It was scary when she wouldn't even talk to them after Mom and Dad died._

_Come on, Charlotte, get back on track._

_Anyways, the two eighth-graders are named Stan Carlton and Bradley Green. Stan is a terrifying little runt who believes that he'll be the next Michael Jackson. He's got it all: the inept fashion style, the squeaky singing voice, and the hat. Stan always seems to be wearing his hat. Other than that major downfall, he's actually a really nice kid. He's one of the rare types who opens doors for girls, does what he can to stop schoolyard fights, and gets his homework in on time. He and Harper have an interesting type of relationship. He follows her around - respectfully, I might add - and she doesn't get in his face about it. Harper's a bit of a tomboy, if I haven't made that fact plain already. She doesn't usually give the lackeys a chance. It's pretty darned weird to see her let a boy follow her around like that._

_Onto the second eighth-grader, Bradley Green. Now, Bradley is quite different than Stan. Instead of following her around like a drooling puppy dog (not that Stan actually **does **this, but I can see it in the little fedora-wearing punk's eyes - I watch him closely), Bradley competes with Harper. They always have this weird battle for authority going on. Honestly, it's like seeing a pair of young boys trying to figure out who's ring-leader in a group of friends. He treats her like one of his own, and doesn't take any mouthing back from her. It's kind of hilarious, actually. Once you get to a rickety old age like me, you kind of forget the innocent amusement of childhood. In a way, I envy my little sister. But more importantly than that, I'm glad she has such great people surrounding her._

_The last LLB suspect is a ninth-grader named James McKempers. I know the least about this kid, but I do know that he lets Harper hang out with him and the other "older kids" every once in a while on lunch breaks. Funny enough, she's the only eighth-grader he's ever taken a shine to. Mart knows the McKempers family, and he was a great help when it came to snooping on James. But after all of my searching, I finally figured it out. James is too come-and-go for Harper to pay any attention to. Bradley is too much of a buddy. The secret writer of the love note was Stan Carlton._

_And how did I come to this fascinatingly wicked deduction?_

_Well... I might have had a talk with Harper about it._

_Honestly, I'm not one for going around snooping in other people's belongings. The thought of searching her room for the note had crossed my mind, but I just couldn't bring myself to it. While it is true that I came to the conclusion of the three LBB suspects with only the help of my intuition and Mart's knowledge, it was Harper who gave me the final answer. We'd been having one of our rare talks together when the topic came up. I'd been out in the crypt again, just breathing in the musty air and talking to one of the relatives, when Harper came in. It was the first time I realized that I wasn't the only Thornton who had the odd tendency to muse in the graveyard. Apparently, the crypt is one of Harper's favourite spots, too. After talking about school and the weather and other unimportant topics, I finally asked her the question: "Who was the note from?"_

_To my surprise, Harper didn't start blushing and cackling like some inane little schoolgirl - she was in a calmer state of mind out in the crypt. Instead, she just shrugged and told me who it was. Stan Carlton is a boy in her class who adored her. She doesn't feel anything towards him, but she's flattered by the notion that she now has him in the palm of her hands. I laughed when she told me that. Oh, such a typical little Harper move - playing with the boy's heart while she has it at her fingertips. I know she won't do anything rash, but we had a good chat about the endless possibilities. I've missed these sisterly talks. We seemed to have a lot of them before the accident, a few afterwards, and a long stretch of silence up until now. Honestly, I'm just glad that I got a bit of my little sister back._

_Don't tell her, but I really do love Harper._

_Onto the second topic!_

_I went into my parents' room today. I swear, I haven't stepped foot in that place since the night we heard the news of the accident. I didn't look around at too much of the clutter, though a few small items caught my eye. One was a stack of journals - probably my mother's. I didn't have the heart to open them up, but tackling sentimental things like that is next on my bucket list._

_I don't know if I'll ever have the heart to read them._


	14. March 5, 1985

_March 5, 1985_

_Great Aunt Polly had me do last month's bookkeeping yesterday. I suppose she thinks that it's logical for a seventeen-year-old heiress to learn how to keep the books - as well as do every other financial chore possible. I'm counting down the weeks until school ends. July seems just too far away right now. What is it, another four months until I graduate? And that's if I finish my English and Socials/History projects early. Some days, I just feel like breaking down and crying. I can't understand why everybody thinks that I'm the person best suited for pressures like this._

_Dang it. Journal-writing is procrastination, and I have to take Harper to the grocery store in an hour. She's making dinner tonight, and I really don't want her spending a hundred dollars on ingredients like last time... especially when she usually ends up burning the food. It tastes good and all, but my little sister needs culinary help. I wonder if you can get counselling for that._

_My duties await._


	15. March 24, 1985

_March 24, 1985_

_The diaries were less painful than I expected. Yes, I finally got to reading them. I can't rightly explain what it's been like. After finally getting over their deaths... to be reading this... I don't know what to say. My mother wrote them. I can still smell her perfume and balmy chapstick in the pages. Writing in a diary of my own makes me feel like I'm planning my own demise. It's stupid, right? ... But I can't shake this feeling. I haven't told Harper that I've been reading the diaries. She'd be crushed. My greatest fear is that if something ever got triggered in her - some teensy little pain or weird emotion - I'd lose my sister forever. I saw how deep she fell when our parents died. If she doesn't heal up good and proper before facing the bigger parts of life, I'm scared she'll break._

_I already lost my parents. Dear God, I can't lose my sister, too._

_On a lighter note, it's kinda funny to be reading these. Our parents sure loved each other. A few of the entries are all about the loving look my father used to get in his eyes when my mother'd greet him from work. They were happy and in some real love, that's for sure. At least the lives they had were good. I just wish they could have been longer._


	16. March 28, 1985

_March 28, 1985_

_I don't know how to begin this. My room's cold, the music box on my dresser isn't calming my mood, and I feel like my whole world is falling apart. Maybe my history teacher is right. Maybe the media is one of society's worst problems. It sure seems to be out to get me._

_Harper and I had a blow up. It was ridiculous, really; but when I look back on it, I don't know what I would have done differently. It's no secret that Harper's wanted a cable TV at Thornton Hall for a while now. We can afford it, and there's enough in our personal accounts to get it covered with money to spare. But I wouldn't let her do it. In order to get a proper TV in here, we'd need to hire electricians to rewire the place. It would take a few weeks to do, since this house is so old, but it'd really be no problem. Not really._

_I can't let people in this house, I just can't. There's just too great a risk that someone would stumble across something in one of the secret passageways. This house is a mess, and the blueprints are dead wrong when it comes to the inside structures. I haven't even found half of them yet. My mother's diaries... well... they've caused me to take all of this searching and family drama a little more seriously. I read about things that our family has done, and suddenly, I know that I have to make it all right._

_But on the other hand, Harper is the only close family that I have left. She's angry at me - furious with me. She's convinced that I'm being too overprotective, that I'm doing all that's in my power to keep her away from being a normal kid. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that we're not normal. We have a cemetery for a backyard. We're practically teenaged billionaires. I know that she gets teased at school, but for some reason, I thought that I could help her through it. But I can't. And now I've taken away another part of her normal life, and I just don't know what to do. I... I'm a mess._

_It's like I have to choose between honouring my mother and protecting my sister, and I can't do that._


	17. March 29, 1985

_March 29, 1985_

_I think we're sorting things out. Truth is, I don't want this house to change. It was like this when our parents left it... when they left and never came back. Harper understands. But still, she's darned serious about wanting to be normal. I think we're working out a compromise. Charlotte and Harper are going to rent an apartment in town for a few months. It'll be a nice change of scenery, leaving Thornton Hall behind for a while, being closer to Marie and Mart... I think it'll be okay. We'll sort through this. We'll find out where we belong, who we are._

_Yes, we'll be okay. I'll be okay. Hyper Harper, Sweet Charlotte Ann... we can do this, can't we? At the very least, we're going to try. And we will give it our all to make things work._

_I'm sorry, Mom, but my sister has to come first. She's all I have left._


	18. April 12, 1985

_April 12, 1985_

_Wade came back to Blackrock Island for a visit. His family has been distant since my parents' deaths. If I'm not mistaken, I think Wade's grown up a fair bit, too. It's nice to have the four of us together again: Wade, Clara, Harper, and I. School stress has gotten lighter for Clara and I, and we have some nice graduation plans set for the summer with Marie, Mart, and the rest of the gang. I think this year might turn out all right._

_Last night, the four of us here at Thornton Hall spent the whole night on the rooftop. Well - most of the night. Watching the stars up there with Aunt Virginia and Uncle Luther down below was nice; comforting, in a way. It was like we were just a normal family again. I could pretend that I was an average teenage kid, not the legal owner of a cotton-producing company with a shady reputation kept in the shadows because of my money. But no - what my family did with this company is not my legacy. I won't let bad things happen here, even though we were built on sad history._

_Uncle Luther knows a couple in town who'll help Harper and me find an apartment. It's a done deal now. We're moving for a month, just to clear our heads from the ghosts at the Hall, and all of the folks who call themselves our guardians have agreed to it. Wade thinks it's stupid. He says that living in town is boring compared to living at Thornton Hall. He says the city has no character, no roots. Maybe he's right. But a breath of fresh air might be nice, even if it's drowning in pollutants._


End file.
